


If It Could Hurt Like That

by sdwolfpup



Series: Can't Remember To Forget You [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 15:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: The worst bet he'd ever made, and he still couldn't figure out why he'd made it.





	If It Could Hurt Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out I needed to do Reyes' take post-Sloane confrontation, too. (Where Ryder saves Sloane & Reyes flies off.) No real spoilers for anything past that. Title from Jens Lekman's "What's That Perfume That You Wear?" which is the perfect song for Reyes' state of mind about the whole thing.

Reyes Vidal was not an impatient man. Ruthless, yes. Ambitious, certainly. But patience was a virtue he possessed - one of only a few. Or _had_ possessed. Only three days since Keema's last status report, and he was ready to board a ship and fly around the galaxy himself to find out what was going on with-

 _With everything_ , he pointedly reminded himself.

Reyes threw down the datapad he wasn't reading and grabbed the nearly empty bottle of whiskey at his side. He peered down its slender neck, confused. Hadn't he just opened this one yesterday?

"MILLA!" he yelled.

The Salarian poked her head into the room. "Yeah boss?"

"Have you been drinking my whiskey?"

She recoiled in disgust. "Not on your life. Human alcohol is a travesty."

"Then why the _fuck_ is it almost empty?"

"Because you've been drinking it? It's not rocket science."

He'd appreciated Milla's blunt honestly back on Kadara, could count on her to not be intimidated by the Charlatan's orders. But that was before....well, before. He slammed his palms down on the desk and heaved himself to his feet, glaring at her. Reyes was not a particularly violent man, either, but he badly needed to punch something. Milla frowned, disappearing into the other room, and he heard the door to the outside open, felt the wave of heat wash through the small shack as she left. The door closed again, cutting off her muttering. 

Reyes slammed his fists onto the desk and fell back into his chair. He was losing virtues left and right, and he'd had so few to start with.

He needed to get the fuck off of this planet, with its wilting heat, sand that got into every crevice, and krogans at every turn. He needed to find a way to get Sloane Kelly out of Kadara for good. He needed-

 _No_ he scolded himself.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since his confrontation with Sloane on Kadara ( _43 days_ his brain supplied helpfully), but he and the Collective had retreated to Elaadan after traveling aimlessly around the galaxy to throw the Outcasts off their tail. His crew had wanted to try Havarl, but there was too much growth, too many crowded paths to feel comfortable. They needed space, the ability to see far enough he could make new plans. It didn't matter. Since they'd been here, he hadn't been able to see anything but endless sand and the deep dark of the cave on Kadara.

He'd revisited that cave a hundred times in his dreams, watched them walk in again, felt the same leap of hope and clench of dread at Sara's familiar stride. He could have called it off, melted into the darkness and tried again another time. Instead he'd pitted Sara's feelings for him against her ideals, and he'd lost. The worst bet he'd ever made, and he still couldn't figure out why he'd made it.

Maybe if he solved that, he could be who he'd been before. A smuggler. A leader. A man who had patience and self-control and a plan.

Maybe he should send Sara another email.

"Reyes, may I come in?" That was Keema, finally, just outside the door. They'd stayed in contact after Kadara, and she was a reliable source of intel on the Initiative as well as the Outcasts. And, perhaps, a friend still, too.

He grunted. "Of course."

She sauntered in with the blazing heat, giving him a thorough once over. The weight of the angaran's up-and-down inventory left him feeling like an ashamed little boy. "I ran into Milla outside. I was going to come in and tear you a new one, but you look like shit."

He smiled, he hoped charmingly. "It's all the rage here on Elaadan. I'm just blending in with the locals."

"Only if you mean the scavs. You need a bath." Her lilting voice was concerned. She pointed at the whiskey bottle. "You've been drinking too much again."

Reyes' smile dropped. "You're not my keeper."

"Perhaps I should be. What's wrong with you? It's not still that woman is it? That Pathfinder?"

"Sara Ryder?" he said with a forced chuckle, her name awkward with disuse. _Auburn hair, olive skin, bright eyes, lipstick that smeared when she kissed him, arms taut with muscles and littered with bruises, the smell of gun oil and flowers._ He rubbed his face. "I am simply tired of sand," he lied.

Keema rolled her eyes. "You need to move on."

He'd had sex with two human men and an asari since their escape but none of it had helped. They weren't Sara, and nothing could fix that. "I need to get back to Kadara. That port should be ours, Keema."

"Yes, and I'm still not quite sure why it isn't."

"Unexpected complications, as I've told you many times."

Keema looked unimpressed. "What really happened in the cave, Reyes?"

 _Reyes is a better man than you think._ "A mistake was made. It won't happen again."

"The Pathfinder is still out there. If you run into her-"

"It _won't happen again_ ," he insisted, his words falling like boulders. _You're someone to me._

Keema's alien eyes narrowed. "She's on Elaadan, you know."

"Now?" His voice was too high, his heart beat too fast.

"Reports say she's been out wandering the desert, doing something with the Remnant towers."

The Vaults. Sara had told him about them, about how they were making planets livable again. She'd been so proud of what they'd done for the other planets already. Her whole face had been lit with it. He'd wanted to kiss her, but couldn't stop staring at the way she glowed. She always looked like that when she talked about the work she was doing as Pathfinder. It had made him regret leaving with the other exiles.

What the fuck had he been thinking, testing the depth of that pride, that devotion to the Initiative, against her feelings for a smuggler?

_You know who I really am._

A fool in love, it turned out. That's who he really was.

"Reyes?"

He tapped his fingers on the desk. "Let's hope she unearths something good. Maybe I'll send you to make a deal with her on tech." He put on another smile, and this time, thinking of Sara out there doing her work, it almost felt real. "Ryder will blow through here and leave opportunity in her wake. We would do well to be ready for it. Let's talk about our next moves." He picked up the whiskey bottle and threw it in the trash. It had been a garbage blend anyway. The Charlatan had taste. The Charlatan would be concocting three plans at once to get them back to Kadara while also making the most of Elaadan and it was time to become who he should have been all along. Reyes Vidal would be just another code name. One he wouldn't need again.


End file.
